


A New Light

by BearHatter



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Time, Frottage, M/M, Mild Ear Kink, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1864146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearHatter/pseuds/BearHatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rodney is not really as smart as he looks, some baseball is played, and there are some dramatic conversations.</p><p>(Weirdly, this came to me while watching people play Kinect Sports.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Light

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in this fandom! How exciting. I should have another one up soon, actually. I've been downright inspired, lately. Feedback for the fandom newbie would be much appreciated!
> 
> Edit: I've now edited for typos, and made a couple phrase changes along the way.

They were teaching the kids on P5Y-773 baseball. Everything was dusty and hot, but the twin suns were starting to go down, cooling everything down and turning all the dust gold.

He and Sheppard had snarked about it—Rodney’d asked if football wasn’t his favorite sport after all, and Sheppard had just given him his injured doe eyes and down-home drawl. “Can’t play football without grass, McKay,” he’d said. And then his mouth showed that quirk it always got when he was about to be particularly obnoxious: “Besides, it’s the great American pastime.”

McKay was honor-bound to splutter a moment about the origin of baseball and Canadian superiority, but in the end he played catcher while Sheppard pitched. (He’d played as a kid one summer, and none of the native kids wanted to stay that still.)

The kids were actually unfairly good, to a scandalizing degree. When one kid threw from Left Field to 3rd with no problem, his incredulity must have shown, because Sheppard threw back his head and laughed at him in that ridiculous way of his, his whole body quivering with amusement.

Rodney had always known, objectively, that Sheppard was good-looking. It was part of his Kirk persona, his John Wayne glamour. Sometimes we wielded it like a weapon, sometimes—if you knew him you could tell—it made him uncomfortable to be noticed like that. Rodney was aware of it as an essential fact.

But seeing him now—lit by the gold and silver of two alien suns, dust glowing in his Blackhawk hair and around his body like magic, joy in every line of him, surrounded by the now-devoted kids he’d saved in his last dumb heroic stunt… Rodney could see that he was beautiful.

Then he dipped his gaze back to Rodney and gave him that slow, genuine grin that so rarely appeared, and only to a select few, and Rodney felt it like a fist to the face, a bullet to the heart, impact and pumping blood and shock: He loved him. He was in love with John Sheppard.

Shitshitshitshit, he was going to ruin everything.

 

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He knew everyone noticed he was off for the rest of the day. Even Ronon came over to bump his shoulder and grunt at him, his way of checking in. Teyla asked him straight out if he was feeling well. Sheppard kept looking at him strangely, trying to figure it out, or maybe just wondering at the antics of the resident mad scientist.

He brushes them off, but he doesn’t put too much effort into pretending. He figures he can take at least one day to not be all right, before he has to bravado his way into keeping the best friend he’s ever had.

The kicker was, Rodney mused as they hike back towards the Stargate, he hadn’t even seen it coming, like he always had in the past. If he had, he would have headed it off at the pass, because this—this team, this friendship, this iteration of his _life_ —it wasn’t worth risking for another inescapably impossible wish. And he had no illusions that it was anything else. John Sheppard was beautiful, and deceptively smart, and dumbly heroic, and just… _cool_. All things Rodney decidedly wasn’t. (Smart, yes, but there wasn’t nothing deceptive about it.) And he was probably straight, too.

They arrived at the ‘gate and got through with no trouble, which was a refreshingly smooth ending to a very long day. He waved off the security team and went through the motions of stowing his gear in the “locker room”—really a room full of personal crates and a few benches, and a good window in case of power outages. He felt so tired he decided to put off data entry till tomorrow. It was pretty late, anyway.

Sheppard caught him leaving at the door, unfortunately; his debrief with Elizabeth must have run short. Rodney tried to do the friendly-nod-thing and keep walking, but Sheppard snagged his elbow, forcing him to linger.

“Hey, Rodney, are you okay?” Sheppard liked the inscrutability of his sunglasses, Rodney knew (and had appreciated and mocked for vanity in turns; they were definitely hot) but now he took them off and folded them into his pocket. Rodney felt a pang at the display of trust and openness. “You were pretty quiet on the way back to the ‘gate. I kept thinking you must have fallen into a hole.” He teasing smirk was belied by the steady question in his eyes, and Rodney simultaneously felt so grateful for it and so aware of how much more he wanted that… he really needed sleep, okay?

“That was one time, Colonel. And yeah, sure, I’m just extra tired, I guess, and I don’t think the dust agreed with me,” he thumped his chest in verisimilitude. “I might just take an antihistamine and go to bed.”

Sheppard considered him for a moment. Rodney belatedly realized he probably should have been less genuine, more sharp and whiney. Soon enough, though, Sheppard had to step out of Teyla’s way as she entered the locker room. She always gave them a few minutes without her to do… male stuff? Rodney didn’t even know. He was going to bed.

“Don’t worry, no one’ll make you go to Tattooine again,” Sheppard said finally. Rodney, trying not to look at him at this point, nodded and took off.

Sheppard frowned after him for a second, then went into the room to strip off his equipment. “How is he?” Teyla asked after a moment.

Sheppard shrugged noncommittally. “It’s not like him to miss a Star Wars reference.” He saw Teyla translate into ‘weird Earth thing’ in her mind.

“Perhaps he is only tired, as he says,” she suggested, and John grunted.

“Yeah, maybe.” He finished dumping his mission gear and closed the crate with a thump.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Okay, so maybe his day of not-alright had stretched into a week. But how could he help it, when John kept making dumb jokes and correcting people’s math and Rodney was noticing it in a way he never had before. And Rodney couldn’t even look at him to pine properly, because John kept giving him those concerned evaluating looks--that were usually reserved to the mission field-- _all the time_. It was a self-perpetuating cycle.

And there was another problem: he kept thinking of him as ‘John’ now, not Sheppard, not Colonel. If he wasn’t careful, he might actually call him that one of these days, and then where would he be?

It wasn’t as though he wasn’t trying to act normally; the scientists in the labs probably didn’t notice anything but some extra grumpiness, easily attributed to his infamous personality. (Though Zelenka kept giving him the last coffee of the pot, now. It was making him paranoid.) His friends, though, had an irritating ability to see through his facades. The third time Carson asked if he needed a sleeping aid, or if he’d been eating regularly and well, or if he needed to cut back on his coffee consumption—Rodney snapped.

“Carson, I am perfectly fine, there is no need to witchdoctor me into submission. I am consuming perfectly average amounts of food, coffee, and sleep—“ (that wasn’t a lie, though he was getting less work done in the labs late at night than usual) “—and I would benefit most from a reduction in nagging. Bother someone else for a change!” He’d started loud and ended louder, and it made the mess go quiet.

Rodney glared right back at all the rubberneckers and avoided Carson’s master-level puppy dog eyes as he scrambled to his feet, juggling his tray. He was finished anyway. After detangling his legs from the table bench as quickly as possible, dearly wanting to get out of here, he jumped at and automatically leaned into a warm firm hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Rodney,” came the soft, confident drawl. “Where’s the fire?” Of course the hand had belonged to Sheppard, because that was the kind of luck that Rodney drew. He just couldn’t deal with this right now, couldn’t take John’s squinty eyes and shuffling feet and not getting to wrap it all up in his arms and give it the full strength of his not-inconsiderable attention without fear of discovery.

Rodney jerked out of Sheppard’s grip before he could lean into it any more, trying to cover his knee-jerk reaction. “There is no fire, so maybe everyone could stop spraying retardant all over me.” He stormed out without looking back, unwilling to see John’s hand left in the air, or whatever expression his reaction bore.

He abandoned his tray on the window ledge just outside the mess and ducked into the closest transporter. He hesitated between the buttons to his room and the labs, and decided on the first. He wasn’t going to get any work done now, and he’d engineered a security system in his room that meant he could safely avoid anyone who might come to scold him.

He got there, opened the door, thoroughly locked it behind him and sat on his bed. After a moment he huffed and put his head in his hands. “That is not how you maintain a status quo, McKay,” he growled, low and muffled. It wasn’t going to ruin everything, any friend of his had to last a temper tantrum or hundred, but it showed how much he needed to get over this thing. He had to forget the butterflies following him around and insisting that he’d never felt this way before, and get it out of his system.

He let out a deep sigh and fell back onto his bed. He kicked his shoes off, shimmied further up the mattress, and stared at the ceiling, trying to decide if he should try to jerk off to not-John and fail, or just go to sleep now. Before he could do anything but wallow, there was a knock at the door. He mouthed a curse and got up as soundlessly as possible, going over to his laptop to bring up his personal security feed. It was Teyla.

He needn’t have bothered to check: just a second later, her voice sounded through the door. “Rodney, I know that you are in there,” she said. Even through the door, he could tell she had her patient voice on. She was ruthless when she got that tone.

He was silent for another minute, hoping she’d get the hint, but it was no use. “I am not here to scold you, Rodney, only to talk to you.” If possible, she sounded even more patient, and was that a hint of… compassion? Rodney sagged. There was no avoiding this conversation. He hit the key combination to unlock the door and thought it open. That was still fun, at least.

Teyla walked in without asking, like she was afraid the door would close again before she could. She sat on the bed, probably because Rodney was on the only chair in the room. There was an awkward silence, and Rodney flailed vaguely at Teyla, indicating she should say what she came to say. She only shook her head, though, and extended her hand in a mirroring gesture infinitely more graceful than his. Apparently, it was his responsibility to speak.

Rodney stubbornly held out, for at least 30 seconds, but he’d never dealt well with suspense. “What?!” he said finally, “What do you want?”

Teyla just sighed and patted the bed next to her. “I want you to tell me what is the matter.”

“I’m fine!” Rodney said, but it sounded far from the truth even to him. Teyla gave him a look. “Why does everyone keep giving me those looks?” Rodney implored, “They’re driving me crazy!”

“The 'look,' Rodney, is a form of communication,” Teyla replied pointedly, “But perhaps we have been too subtle. The look means we know you are lying when you say you are fine and we are disappointed that you do not trust us enough to be truthful.”

“I—what—I—“ Rodney stammered, then all at once deflated against her, his forehead colliding with her shoulder. She held firm as a tree, as if she’d been expecting it. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been so—conflicted, and I didn’t want to tell any of you because I didn’t want it to ruin the team and I know it’s my fault but I promise I’ll fix it, I swear—“

Teyla hushed him, and her hand came up to cup the back of his head in a comforting gesture. Rodney had a brief intruding thought of how good a mother she would be. Certainly better than his own when it came to anything but teaching sound scientific principles. For that, though, her kids could have Rodney.

“I see now why you appear unwell,” Teyla said softly, “You have exhausted yourself with self-censure and inner conflict.” Rodney sagged a little further against her: it was true, he was so _tired_. “Now. It is true I cannot judge the severity of the problem without knowing it, without you risking telling me. However, as you should know, I would never reveal anything told to me in confidence that did not threaten someone’s safety. And I would not let it affect the way I see you.”

Rodney righted himself, supporting his own weight, but was still obviously torn with dread. He suddenly had a whole new horrible thought; he hadn’t even considered Teyla’s opinion on homosexuality—bisexuality, whatever. What if it was taboo in the Pegasus Galaxy, where the ability to have children, replenish population, was so important? What if people were vilified and burned at the stake here? DADT wasn’t really in effect out here, on a mission under civilian command and decent military officers, but that was no guarantee that—

Teyla’s hand on his shoulder brought him out of his panicked swirl of thoughts. He looked into her bright brown eyes and saw nothing but strength and acceptance. She added a final tap to his crumbing defences: “I know that if we were able to find a solution, or at least ease your burden, it would greatly relieve Colonel Sheppard.”

“Yes, well, it’s all his fault anyway!” Rodney burst out.

“John’s fault?” Teyla’s brow furrowed. As if there were any other Colonel Sheppards around.

“Yes! Everytime I turn around, someone’s either talking about him or he’s there himself, discussing comic book movies or worshipping Evel Knieval or inviting me for beers on the pier or beating my Rubik’s Cube time… if he would just restrain himself, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“You… are angry with him for showing affection towards you?” Teyla said hesitantly, and put that way it did sound ridiculous, but—

“I’m angry at him for making me fall in love with him!” Rodney concluded, breathing hard. It was the first time he’d said it aloud, he realized, and it tasted strange in his mouth. “I’m in love with him,” he repeated, softer, and yes, it had the sweet relief of truth in it, what he’d always valued most, but oh the aftertaste was bitter with no hope of requital.

Teyla’s hand slid from his shoulder to grasp his hand. She didn’t seem very surprised. “Is love not something to have joy of?”

Rodney gripped her back. “You’re not angry at me for being bi?”

“I am not sure I know what that word means, but among my people and those we trade with it is not very uncommon that heart-mates are both male, or both female. And for children, if they are asked for seed, they give it. If they need seed, they are given it. It is not so very complicated,” she admonished Rodney.

“Right, okay, good,” nodded Rodney, “And that’s not really what’s the matter… I don’t think it would ever come to be an issue, really.” A corner of his mobile mouth turned down.

“You think your love cannot be reciprocated,” Teyla divined in one of those brilliant leaps of insight. Rodney never knew whether to chalk it up to her woman’s intuition, or her Athosian clear sight, or just her Teyla-ness.

“Of course it can’t be,” Rodney said miserably. “He’s him, and I’m… me. I’ll be lucky if I can keep his friendship, with the way it’s been going.”

“I agree that things cannot continue the way they have,” said Teyla, “It seems clear to me that you must tell him.”

“Are you crazy?” Rodney spluttered. “It can only make it worse! He’ll just pity me, or never be comfortable around me again, and everything will be awkward. Or, worst case scenario, he’ll be horribly offended and kick me off the team.”

Teyla gave him a stern look. “You know John is not capable of such cruelty. And you must tell him not only for your sake, but for his. And Ronon’s, even. We have been concerned you were perhaps hiding some serious illness, or preparing to withdraw from the team.”

Rodney was astonished. “Withdraw from the—but that’s exactly what I’ve been avoiding. Our friendship is—really important to me. John’s my Best Friend, the best I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to risk that for an impossibility.”

Teyla ‘hmmm’d thoughtfully. “Among my people we have a saying: ‘The cave you fear to enter often holds the greater treasure.’” Rodney just shrugged painfully and Teyla relented. “It is, of course, your decision. But may I at least tell John it is nothing so great as we feared, merely a personal disturbance?”

“Yeah, sure, that’d be fine, that… no,” Rodney sighed, “I can tell him that, at least. I… probably need to apologize to him, anyway, for biting his head off earlier.”

Teyla nodded and they both stood for an Athosian farewell. “You have a big heart, Rodney McKay,” Teyla murmured to him as they touched foreheads. “At least as true as your mind, if less practiced. Do not be ashamed of it.”

“Thanks, Teyla,” Rodney said hoarsely, and the mentioned heart felt a little lighter as he watche her leave.

All full of jittery determination and nowhere else to go (because he was not going to see John tonight, oh no, he had fulfilled his emotional conversation quota for the day and that could stew a night longer) Rodney put his shoes back on and headed to the labs.

They were thankfully uncrowded, with Miko tucked away in her customary corner, a couple of biologists putting together a grant request in time for tomorrow’s dial-out, and Zelenka puttering around like always (“It is a process, Rodney! Movement of the body to jog movement of the brain). It was an environment he’d always felt comfortable in, and soon he was settled in to look at data read-outs from the shield generator.

There was an interesting fluctuation; if he could nail it down he could possibly reduce power consumption, or if not then at least learn more about the reliance of the device on electromagnetism…. He was soon deeply engaged in data analysis, so he could be excused if he was slow to really notice when Zelenka slid him a hot mug of coffee just the way he took it.

“Thanks,” he said absently, and automatically sipped at it before he realized. “Wait, what?” he looked from the coffee to Zelenka. “Do you need a favor or something? Because I know I still owe you for handling the anthro report last month, you don’t have to rub it in with suspiciously motivated coffee.” He took another sip, just to make it clear that whatever Zelenka’s nefarious plans, they would not interfere with his caffeine intake.

Zelenka rolled his eyes dramatically to show what he thought of that theory. “It is not a favor thing, you paranoid man. You have been upset lately, I bring you coffee when I make a pot.” He shrugged like it was simple.

“There is nothing wrong with paranoia! Or well… anyway, I haven’t been upset.” He hunched his shoulders defensively and kept gulping the coffee. It was the perfect temperature.

He regretted it soon. “Is clear to me,” said Zelenka with another of his Gallic shrugs, “You have affections for Colonel Sheppard and are only now realizing the depth of them.” Rodney forced back a spit take and almost choked. Zelenka thumped him consolingly while he coughed.

“What are you—How did you—“ Rodney croaked as soon as he got his breath back.

“As I keep reminding you Rodney, I am highly intelligent. It is not my fault you underestimate me.” He relented at Rodney’s continued horror, “Also, I think I can say I know you better than most.” He smiled, and when Rodney could only gape at him, gave him a final pat and moved off.

After a moment of processing, Rodney stopped him. “Wait,” he called, and Zelenka turned back. “Are we—“ he pointed rapidly between them, “We’re friends, then?” It came out more questioning than he’d intended.

Radek looked to the ceiling as if searching for patience, but a smile played on his face. “Ty vole. Yes. We geniuses must stick together, yes?”

Rodney snorted, of necessity, but they were both smiling as they got back to work. Rodney drank his coffee slower than usual, and Radek pretended not to notice.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Bright light and a hard surface intruded on Rodney’s senses. He let his eyes slit open. Morning. He must have fallen asleep in the lab again. He slowly peeled his cheek off the steel table with the ease of familiarity, but it was still painful. He rubbed at the divot the table edge had left in his face.

“Late night?” said a voice behind him. He swiveled around wildly on his stool. The goose bumps on the back of his neck were confirmed; there was John Sheppard, lean and dangerous, a shadow with a gun strapped to his thigh, leaning against the wall. His casual posture was belied by the strength coiled in his crossed arms, and his face was unreadable. Rodney swallowed hard.

It was an image opposite to the one that had kick-started his revelation, but it reminded him fiercely of it just the same. There was the lightning shot of lust; there was the terrifying conviction that he was caught fast; there was the burn of love that he barely recognized, it was so much brighter than he was used to. How could this kind of intensity have snuck up on him?

Rodney was unable to speak, reaction time severely limited by his lack of sleep. He swallowed hard again, and at his lack of response, John levered himself up and prowled towards him. Rodney felt an illogical jerk of panic, felt like prey before a predator. John had to have noticed him jolt, but he didn’t act like it, just finished advancing and leaned his hip against Rodney’s desk this time. “Well?” he prompted.

So, this conversation was happening now. Trust Sheppard to ambush him at his most vulnerable. He had a talent for catching Rodney off guard. Rodney dragged his head away from where it was threatening to fondly recall examples. He couldn’t _think_ with John looking at him like that. He cleared his throat. “What was the question again?”

John didn’t smile and Rodney felt his heart drop a little. It was worse than he thought. After a moment of pointed silence, John looked down. “I think we both know what the question is, Rodney.”

Rodney rubbed both hands over his face and looked around the lab. No one else was there, but that could stop being the case at any time. “Can we… can we talk more privately, maybe?”

John just inclined his head and swept his hand towards the door, and they made their way to the transporter and then Rodney’s room in silence. Rodney sat down on his bed to leave the chair free, but Sheppard ignored it, still standing.

Rodney wasn’t quite sure what to say, but Sheppard wasn’t giving him anything but silence. “Sorry,” was something, at least. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I shouldn’t have snapped in the mess hall, Carson didn’t deserve it, you definitely didn’t deserve it. I’m just… having a personal problem, and I shouldn’t—won’t—take it out on anyone. Anymore.”

John shook his head and shifted on his feet. “I don’t really care, Rodney,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “I’ve got a thick skin, and I don’t need you to change who you are, even if sometimes that’s an asshole. What I can’t handle is you avoiding me, brushing me off when I try to ask you what’s wrong, when it’s clearly something important!” He shook his head again and spoke quieter. “I don’t know why you can’t just trust me as your friend, but if you can’t trust me as your team leader… I have to know what’s going on with you for this to work.”

“I do trust you!” Rodney protested. He’d just really screwed this up, hadn’t he. “As my CO and as my… friend. I just didn’t want to tell you because I want to stay friends, I want you to trust me, and I don’t know…how you might react. Not to mention, it’s just… terrifying in general.”

Sheppard mulled that over. “Yeah, that makes me feel only slightly better.”

Rodney’s arms gestured furiously. “Do I… have to tell you? Right now? I promise it’s not dangerous or anything!” Sheppard just gave him a look. “Okay, at this point I’m just building it up.” Rodney took a deep breath and hoped really, really hard this wouldn’t change anything for the worse. He was going to rip off the band-aid and run away. Right now. He would. Right… now.

“Rodney, just—“

“I love you.” And it was out, like a grenade waiting to explode.

“You… “ John looked utterly shocked, comprehension slow to dawn on his face. “You love…” his voice had gone hoarse, so he cleared his throat. Over the course of the conversation, he’d somehow gotten closer, so Rodney had an excellent view of his Adam’s apple. “Me?”

“Please don’t kick me off the team,” Rodney said in a desperate rush, “I don’t know if you’re willing to continue being friends, but I promise I won’t ever mention it—“

“Are you serious?” John looked not any less shocked, edging into horror now, actually, and sat down on the end of the bed as if he couldn’t stand anymore.

Rodney felt the knife in him twist. Ow. “Well, I’m sorry, okay?” he snapped furiously, trying to cover up the hurt with anger, even though John— _Sheppard_ —was just repeating what he’d told himself for days now. “I’m sorry I was just too dumb to keep feelings out of—“

John stopped him with a hand along his jaw, thumb pressed underneath to keep him from speaking. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, turning Rodney’s head to him so he could see that he was serious. “I would never kick you off for anything like that, Rodney, even if I didn’t—“ he broke off and away, but Rodney caught his hand as it fell and held it between them.

“Didn’t what, John?” he asked apprehensively. He felt like they were standing on the edge of a precipice—but then, John had taught him how to fly. “Just tell me.” He let some of the old acerbity back into his voice, tried to cover the hope: “Believe me, I tried it the other way, but it just got nagged out of me.”

John let out the huff that meant he was amused but being stubborn about it and slowly looked back to him. He looked like he was facing a death march or something, in strange contrast to his hand, which was clutching right back at Rodney’s. It was his forced-to-talk-about-feelings face, so Rodney just waited.

“I just want you to know that I’m not good at this, okay?” John finally sighed painfully. “I don’t know what kind of pedestal you’ve put me on, but… I just disappoint people. I don’t talk enough, or I talk too much about things no one cares about, or I take stupid risks. And you know, I can live with you friendship, Rodney. I made that bargain with myself months ago. But I don’t think I can take your disappointment. I can’t sacrifice all the good we have just because I want more.”

It was probably wrong of Rodney to have his heart beat faster and lighter with every word. “I know, right?” he said, “That’s what I told Teyla! When I thought it was just me, of course. The rest of that was just sheer idiocy.” He could resist leaning forward and kissing John for exactly zero seconds more, so he gave in and relished soft lips, scratchy stubble and just the way John _smelled_ , before he pulled back to finish explaining as quickly as possible. Then they could get to the really good stuff.

He alked quickly, emphatically. “All the things you just listed as weaknesses are things I _like_ about you. I get to be the talker and you listen, or we banter about stupid things together. Yeah, I might get mad at you for taking stupid risks, but you’re just a natural-born hero, or whatever, it’s just part of who I fell in love with. Et cetera, et cetera. My parents were… not very good parents, really, not even very functional, and looking back I realize they were too similar, you know? Just reinforcing each other’s strengths and weaknesses. But us…” Rodney put the hand not occupied on the back of John’s neck and stroked through the fine hairs there absently. He was warming to the topic, slowing down a little.

“We could be just the pinnacle of awesome, am I right? I’ll be the brains, you’ll be the brawn; but you’ll correct my math and rush me, and I'll tell you when your plans are dumb. You’ll be the charm, I’ll be the conversational sledgehammer. You'll fly stuff, I'll fix it. I mean, we’re already on a team. We already know how to communicate and whatever, we already trust each other. We are going to own this. We’ll be a power couple! Oh, wow, I can’t wait to tell Jeannie; she may explode. But probably Teyla and Radek first since they know about my angst—“ Rodney caught himself. There were so many things more fun to do than talk, now. “Anyway.”

He looked up at John and beamed, and he had that damn dimple and he’d just solved John’s problems like he always did, and he was just so _Rodney_ and John loved that. Then he realized he could really say it now. “I love you.”

It really wasn’t Rodney’s fault, he had to take the opportunity, it was too good to pass up. “I know,” he said dramatically.

He was promptly tackled back onto the bed, one ear being massaged between long fingers, which was weird but good, just like John. “I think it’s pretty clear that I’m the cocky flyboy in this relationship,” was growled playfully in his other ear, sending a shiver down his spine, and then they were kissing, all-in, hot, and thorough.

“You are pretty scruffy looking,” Rodney conceded, nipping a trail along that scruff. He wanted to devour it.

“Who’s scruffy looking?” John quoted breathlessly. “You love it.”

“Yeah,” Rodney said, tipping his head back to grin up at him. “And you love it when I make Star Wars references, you big dork.”

John grinned right back. “Yeah,” he said. “I really do.” And then he let his fingernail scratch gently behind Rodney’s ear, grinding his hips down when Rodney bucked up and catching his gasp with his mouth.

“You’re going to kill me,” Rodney was suddenly sure after a minute or so of this, of John finding buttons Rodney hadn’t ever conceived of and playing them like a virtuoso. Rodney was panting and rock hard already.

“Only the little death,” John replied as loftily as he could while wildly turned on. “I’ve had months to think about this, you know.”

  Rodney had a sudden image of John jerking off, planning this, and bucked up again involuntarily. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to think on my feet, then,” he said and tugged both of their shirts off before leaning up to nibble at John’s neck.

“No hickeys yet,” Sheppard said. “Gotta tell people first. Ronon knows about me, by the way.” It was punctuated oddly with Rodney working his way down his neck.

“Really? Ronon?” Rodney considered the image of Ronon as confidante. You could be pretty sure he never spilled a secret; he hardly ever talked. “Let’s not talk about other people now, huh?” he suggested and swiped his tongue over John’s nipple.

John responded beautifully, his whole body jerking, and he made a noise Rodney would be delighted to tease him about when he wasn’t busy working over the other nipple with his teeth, pulling and pinching at it, enjoying the sun-sweat taste of John. He’d always had a bit of an oral fixation.

John retaliated by curling over to take Rodney’s ear into his mouth, and what was his thing about ears, anyway, and how had it already become Rodney’s thing too? He couldn’t restrain a whine as John delicately nibbled, and the sound seemed to spur him on.

After a couple minutes of hurried fumbling, their pants were off and they pressed together, bare. There was a pause, as they looked into each other’s eyes, and then Rodney reached down to gather their cocks into his hand and they were thrusting passionately against each other.

John made a quiet, desperate sound and buried his face in Rodney’s shoulder, snaking an arm underneath him, and Rodney buried a hand in his flyaway hair. Rodney could feel the wristband John always wore against his skin, now, and there was something _so hot_ about that, about knowing that he’d see it tomorrow on John’s wrist and remember it from this moment, that made Rodney squeeze a little tighter. John gasped and came, pressing into Rodney hard and getting both of them more slippery. When Rodney started to slow down reluctantly in fear of overstimulating, he just thrust more determinedly and slipped a hand down to cup Rodney’s balls, and Rodney buried his nose in John’s hair and came harder than he ever had in his life.

Given that this was only their first time, and only frottage, he thought he would probably black out as soon as he could get John in his ass. He must have spoken aloud in post-orgasm haziness, because John chuckled and hooked his chin over his shoulder. “You and me both, buddy.”

“Really? Buddy?” While Rodney was too blissed out to move, he’d moved on from speechless. “That’s what you call me?”

John deftly rolled off, laying on his back and tucking an arm around Rodney’s waist to pull him closer. “Sorry,” he said in a voice that must have been deliberately low and seductive, “I meant, you and me both, lover.”

There was really only one response to that, and Rodney craned over him to press it into his mouth.

They could clean up later.

 

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Later, Rodney tells John about the moment on the baseball field, and John makes a terrible joke about pitching and catching. Then he tells Rodney about the time when Rodney was fixing the ‘jumper, in the moonlight, on the planet with the bioluminescent flowers. They make-out lazily, contentedly, for kind of a while before Rodney realizes aloud, “That was five months ago.”

            John just grins at him. “What can I say, McKay, I’m smarter than I look.”


End file.
